overheard
by scribblingnellie
Summary: Greg Lestrade knows how he feels about Molly Hooper, but he can't bring himself to tell her. Will overhearing her confess something to her mother change that? Part of my series of stories based on creative daily prompts. This is my story 'Mortified' from Greg's POV. Many thanks for reading!


**The prompt 'overheard' made me think back to 'Mortified', a story I'd written last year, where Molly found Greg in the morgue and wondered how much of her conversation about him with her mum he'd overheard. And here's the answer to that - 'Mortified' from Greg's POV. Original story was written before S3 happened so, no Tom! Hope you enjoy reading.**

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Bloody stupid thing! Yanking at the knot, Greg freed it and pulled the irritating thing from around his neck. He only wore a tie if he absolutely had to. Meetings - Chief Super, Commander - briefings and press conferences meant he'd had the damn thing on almost all day. Now, as he made his way down the corridor in Barts, he could finally be free of it.

Scrunching his tie up, he shoved it into his coat pocket. And his hand brushed against the reason he was there. The soft wool against his fingers stopped him. Taking them out, he turned them over in his hands. Greg smiled; yellow was exactly the colour that Molly would choose for a pair of gloves.

Molly.

The feel of her gloves in his hand and he was straight back in Sherlock's kitchen. Making her a mug of tea while their friend threw himself into his latest experiment, Greg couldn't even begin to guess at what he was doing or why. Not that it mattered, he'd only been there because of her.

Reaching the door of the morgue, he pulled it opened and poked his head inside. No Molly. Leaning against the door as it swung itself shut, he thought he heard her voice. It sounded like it was coming from over the other side - she was in her office. With her back to him, he saw her sat at her desk. Papers and files piled up in front of her, leaning her head on her hand, mobile held to her ear.

'Mum.' Her voice was tense. '...He's not Jim. He's the exact opposite...'

Making his way towards her office door, Greg kept his eyes on her. Her hair was swept up into a fancy ponytail. He loved how she put her hair up in so many different ways; it was rather lovely.

'...somehow Mum, I think with him I'd be a lot safer. I mean he is a policeman, a Detective Inspector.'

And he stopped. She was talking about him? To her mum?

'Sorry... he was really kind, he was there for me.'

He'd been so worried for her - Sherlock's death and the inquires had really affected her. They'd spent late nights talking over coffee in her office; he'd walked her home after a few tough days of questioning; he'd texted her to check she was ok. He couldn't help it, he wanted to be there, to help her. And when Sherlock returned? Greg's feelings for Molly had grown so much in those two years that her revelation of what she'd done only made him care and admire her more.

'...So? Being 15 years older than me doesn't make him any less suitable.'

Oh. Less suitable? Did that mean she...? Was Molly thinking about him in the same way he thought about her? Did their age gap bother her? Several sleepless nights spent worrying about it made him realise that it wasn't important, to him anyway. He heard her sigh as she rubbed her forehead, letting her head hang.

'Divorced now. He told me his divorce came through two weeks ago.'

An older, divorced man; her mother didn't approve then. Greg leaned against the autopsy table, running his hand over his eyes. It always came back to that - he was too old and broken for a young, smart woman like Molly, wasn't he?

'No, Mum. There's no 'still' about it. He's good, kind, honest... he's a gentleman. I like him...'

She did? Greg looked down to the gloves in his hand and then back up to her. Maybe... maybe it was possible that he had a chance?

'...but anyway you don't need to worry. He's not interested in me. Not in that way.'

No. Oh, Molly. He hadn't been obvious enough. He had to change that.

'Yeah, ok. I will, Mum... bye.'

Molly stared down at her mobile. Greg found himself stuck to the spot. He wanted to say her name, cough, something, anything to let her know he was there; but his voice deserted him. Sighing, she pushed herself up out of the chair, gathering up the pile of reports. She turned.

And she froze. Their eyes met as they both stood stock still. But the look on her face. Slightly horrified? Uncomfortable? Molly looked away from him, avoiding his eyes. And he had the sudden feeling that he couldn't do it. He couldn't say what he'd come all the way over from the Yard to do. He'd return her gloves and go. She didn't want him there, did she?

'Hey Molly,' Greg broke the silence, '.. I was just returning these. You left them behind yesterday. At Sherlock's.'

Placing her gloves on top of the table, he stepped back, turning to go. He couldn't ask her.

'...thank you... Greg?'

He stopped. What was he seeing in her eyes? She wasn't upset or angry. Embarrassed?

'..I'm.. I'm sorry.. about the phone call. My mum... she's just putting two and two together and making five.. you know.'

Running a hand through his hair, he turned away. He couldn't do it. But... she told her mum that she liked him. She'd said it, which meant that maybe, possibly there was a chance. Turning back, he hesitated, trying to gather his courage.

'Molly... when I said, yesterday, that if you needed anything.. anything at all, just ask.'

'Of course I do...'

He remembered how she'd smiled at him when he'd passed her the mug of tea; her eyes, her whole face had lit up. And how he'd just wanted to reach out and touch her. Like he wanted to do right then. Damn it, you idiot, just say it.

'I meant it.' Walking slowly round towards her, Greg couldn't take his eyes from Molly's. '...and every time I said it before, during the inquiry, when Sherlock jumped, when he came back...'

Closing the gap between them, he reached out to touch her arms. And suddenly he realised. It hit him as he felt her so close to him, heard her intake of breath - he was love in with her. He was. Looking at her, he knew.

'...I know, Greg. I know you meant it..'

'And I didn't mean it just as a friend..'

Molly started. He held her eyes; she didn't look away. Letting his hand move up her arm, resting on her shoulder, he reached up to caress her cheek.

'No?'

The disbelief in her voice - damn it, he'd been so stupid, he should have said something before. Gently holding her face, he shook his head. 'No.'

'All this time?' she asked, slightly incredulous, her eyes never leaving his.

Greg nodded. 'Since that Christmas.'

Molly laughed softly and his heart ached at the sound. The memory of how upset she'd been came back; how she'd hit back at Sherlock and he'd apologised but it hadn't taken away the hurt in her eyes. Greg'd had a go at their friend for it while she'd gathered her things together to leave. He'd offered to share the cab with her; something told him was she wasn't ok.

'...Greg, I'm sorry. I feel a bit ...stupid. All this time and I didn't realise. I...'

'No, don't be,' he said, brushing a stray hair off her face, letting his hands rest on her shoulders, 'I knew it wasn't right. Not then anyway. I mean, me being an older, married man and all that.'

She smiled. 'So, you waited?'

'Yes. For you Molly Hooper, I'd wait however long it takes.'

And he meant it. For this amazing woman in front of him, he'd waited. She closed her eyes and he heard her breathing slowly in. Touching her gently under her chin, Greg felt himself drawing in towards her. Her eyes opened at his touch.

He paused, their lips only centimetres away. 'May I?'

Molly nodded, and he brushed his lips against hers. Soft. She felt soft under his touch as his hand slid along her cheek. And then her arms were round his neck. She wanted him? Her fingers feeling their way across the back of his neck, Greg deepened their kiss, relishing the feel of her in his arms.

'Fancy dinner tonight?' he asked, a little breathless, when they broke apart.

Nodding, Molly grinned and his heart tripped over a couple of beats. Oh, she was gorgeous. He couldn't help grinning back.

'Yes, please.'

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****I've done it again - another piece of pure and simple romance. I couldn't help myself! There's just something about these two that I really would love to see them get together. **Many thanks for reading. ******


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